


I Am Here And That Was Then (there's no truth and who cares)

by athenejen



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Remix, Remix Duello 2010, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenejen/pseuds/athenejen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's state of mind: complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Here And That Was Then (there's no truth and who cares)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coricomile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/gifts).
  * Inspired by [We Are Nowhere And It's Now](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1638) by coricomile. 



> A remix of Coricomile's fabulous, adorably sweet kidnapping story, "We Are Nowhere And It's Now," written for Remixduello 2010. Title is from the song "We Are Nowhere and It's Now" by Bright Eyes. Feedback and constructive criticism is welcome and cherished.

_Fuck_. Patrick slammed the bedroom door shut and pressed his back flat against it, breathing hard. His hand trembled as he turned the lock.

This was _fucked up_.

After a few long minutes of gasping silently for breath, fingers clenched tight around the doorknob, Patrick let himself take the few steps into the room necessary to collapse face down on Pete's bed. The pillow smelled mostly like his own sweat.

It was almost comforting.

Patrick had thought that this whole being-kidnapped experience had already reached the very pinnacle of weirdness, had thought it that very first time Pete smiled at him, when Patrick punched him and Pete didn't hit him back.

The mall had been even weirder, though, and while that had definitely been a shock (he still can't quite believe Pete had taken him _shopping_ , like that was a totally normal thing you did with your kidnappees, or, if what came out of Pete's mouth could be believed, with your stolen, living, breathing, human objets d'art), it was nothing compared to this.

Patrick twisted until he could wrangle his hand under himself and tuck it into the slightly open area between his neck and the sheets. He wedged his fingers against his mouth, just held them there, warm and quiet, and thought about Pete.

He woke up a few minutes later, annoyed in his sleep about how his nose was mashed into the pillow. With great effort, Patrick flipped himself over. Now he was using Pete's pillow. This, too, was oddly comforting.

His fingers drifted up to press against his mouth again. He sighed. He was pretty sure that voluntarily kissing your captor was not a sign of stable mental health.

Nor was running away afterwards, especially when the only place to run away _to_ was the captor's bedroom.

It was not much of a comfort to remind himself that at least he was clearly more sane than Pete was.

He found himself brushing the pads of his fingers over the center of his lower lip, in a slow, gentle rhythm. It was strangely soothing.

He tried to hold on to this tangle of emotions, tried to analyze them as best he could, but sleep overtook him.

~

Upon awakening a few hours later, Patrick felt the need to think this through as logically as possible.

Fact: Pete had kidnapped him. Or "stole" him, whatever. He had taken Patrick from his bed and dragged him to this totally normal-looking, slightly rundown apartment, and kept him there.

Related fact: Pete was a criminal, clearly in the habit of stealing things. That Pete claimed to consider him the best of all those things -- those "pretty little things," not a phrase Patrick would ever have thought applied to himself -- did not excuse him from his rampant, extensive, and completely unapologetic illegal activities.

Fact related to the related fact: Pete was a _lunatic_.

Surely this should be problematic enough to wilt any erection.

Patrick peered under the sheet. No such luck.

He flopped over onto his stomach and tried to go back to sleep.

No dice.

Completely separate fact: Patrick might be a lunatic, too.

Or maybe that was a related fact. Whatever. Despite all the many good reasons not to, Patrick still wanted to kiss Pete again. And not just kiss, either.

Patrick was almost a hundred percent certain that Pete would be on board with this plan.

No anyone had ever wanted to be kissed by him before.

Fuck, this was _so fucked up_.

But kind of awesome.

... _Fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> I am generally not entirely comfortable with using words such as "sane" and "lunatic" to describe actions that only colloquially apply, but I ended up bowing to what felt right for this particular tightly-focused POV voice. My apologies for any offense.


End file.
